


FA 506: The Second Kinslaying

by AlexBarton



Series: Daughter of Oaks [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Amrod dies at Losgar canon, Canonical Character Death, Don't copy to another site, Second Kinslaying | Sack of Doriath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 01:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20685173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexBarton/pseuds/AlexBarton
Summary: A look at Doronil's friendship, or lack thereof, with Celegorm.





	FA 506: The Second Kinslaying

**Author's Note:**

> Chronologically, set between chapters 2 and 3 of "He Will Tear Your City Down" but it's a separate story because it's Doronil's perspective on Celegorm rather than Maedhros.
> 
> You could probably read this as a standalone, just know that Doronil was one of Fingon's personal guard and his fake wife, and that she was BFFs with Aredhel and Celegorm back in Aman.

Doronil looks at the trees and estimates that she’s only a few days away from the border of Doriath. She has been out in the abandoned lands of Thargelion and Himlad hunting orcs.

She usually doesn’t scout this far, or for this long, but an extended trip seemed like a good idea after the last fight between her and Celegorm.

* * *

_"If you had just kept your Valar-damned hands to yourself, then Artaresto and Elu Thingol could have been persuaded to join the Union. But no! You are still the __selfish and self-absorbed brat you have always been Tyelkormo! Lúthien wasn’t yours, and the fact that you thought you could _ _ steal _ _ her away shows how craven you are. But then again, you always were a coward, not even able to face Írissë when she came to you for help.”_

_Celegorm struck her across the face, and she retaliated by tackling him to the ground. The pair tussled in the dirt of the courtyard at Amon Ereb, and many of the Noldor there stopped to watch them. _

_ Suddenly, she felt arms around her torso, dragging her off Celegorm. Maglor hauled her back, and she could see Celegorm being similarly restrained by Maedhros and Amras. _

_ He had a long scratch above his left eyebrow that was dripping blood down his face and the beginnings of a black eye. She supposed she couldn’t look much better; she could feel the blood dripping from her nose and split lip. _

_ “Enough.” Maedhros commanded firmly. _

_ Chest heaving, she took a step back, but Celegorm wasn’t content to leave it be. _

_ “You speak of blame, and yet who let their king die in front of them?” he spat at her. _

_ Her heart clenched. She let out a wild scream and tore herself from Maglor’s arms, throwing herself back at her former childhood playmate. She pummeled his face, feeling the satisfaction of his cheekbone crunch under her fist. _

_ It took both Maglor and Amras to pry her off Celegorm this time, her fury lending to her strength. _

_ Maedhros stepped between them. “Leave Doronil.” _

_ She sneered. “You are not my king. You cannot command me.” _

_ He breathed out of his nose forcefully, trying to keep his face calm. “You said you wanted to fulfill Fingon’s last command to you. Go scout and protect Amon Ereb. For a while.” _

_ She narrowed her eyes, then spat the blood in her mouth on Celegorm’s unconscious body and turned and walked away. _

* * *

It has been over a month since she rode out from Amon Ereb, but she does not wish to return so soon, so she has been making her way towards Menegroth from the North. She’s not quite sure she will be welcomed there anymore; Beleg had died even before Nargothrond had been sacked, and Mablung had fallen in defence of Menegroth against the Naugrim.

She shakes herself from such gloomy thoughts and continues on through the woods to where the Girdle once was. When she passes through the grove where it stood, there is no accompanying tingle of magic. It saddens her to know how much has been lost in the past few years alone.

She makes camp in one of the abandoned scout _ telain _ in the treeline just past the grove and wishes that things were simpler and life was kinder. But no, the Valar have forsaken them, and she had failed in her duty to protect her king. She did not deserve the kindness of a simple life.

The next morning, she wakes with the sun and makes the final ride into Menegroth.

It is hauntingly empty.

She sees the great gates opened, but hasn’t met any scouts, and she knows instinctively that something is wrong. She pauses and strings her bow, nocking an arrow just in case. 

She carefully enters the halls of Menegroth, and then drops her bow, her hands flying to her mouth.

A battle had been fought here, but not one from the Enemy. No, instead she sees the bodies of Doriathrim clad in grey and green intermingled with Noldor in red with the Feanorian star emblazoned upon their chests.

_ How? _

It had not even been two months since she had left the brothers, surely she would have noticed them planning for such a siege.

She picks up her bow, and stalks through the thousand halls. Death and destruction everywhere. She kneels down to a bloodstain in the throne room; it was recent enough that the battle had taken place within the past week.

_ She had been so close_. Yet more death she had failed to prevent.

She looks up from the floor and sees the bodies of Dior and Nimloth his wife on the dais where the thrones were, reaching for each other.

Grief heavy in her chest, she walks about the many halls, collecting all the bodies she can find and dragging them back to the throne room. When she had collected all the corpses, she creates 3 pyres: one for the Feanorian soldiers, one for the Doriathrim, and one smaller one for Dior and Nimloth to lay next to each other.

She stands on the dais, speaking the prayers of the deceased, and then lights the pyres. She stays only a little longer to make sure the bodies would completely burn, then leaves the great halls of Menegroth, uncaring if the fires spread throughout the caves.

She finds her horse outside, and swings up onto him, turning south. It takes about a week from Menegroth, and she knows she isn’t that far behind the Feanorian host. Given that they would be travelling more slowly than her, she estimates that she will reach Amon Ereb around the same time as them.

Six days later, she rides into the courtyard of the stronghold. She dismounts and takes her horse to the stables, making sure that he is untacked and comfortable in his stall before striding through the halls to the brothers’ quarters.

No one stops her. She reflects later and realises that she must have been a sight to behold, still covered in blood, and anger in her eyes.

She bursts into Maedhros’ study. He is sitting slumped at his desk, face in his hand.

“What have you done?!”

He looks up, and she sees the tear tracks across his face. “You know then?”

“Do I know?” she sneers, “Do I know? I know that I entered Menegroth and found all within dead, some bearing the star of your house. Was Alqualondë not enough for you?”

He flinches.

“How could you allow this Maedhros?”

He shakes his head. “It seemed like a reasonable idea when Celegorm spoke of it. We did not intend to kill anyone, only to take back what is ours. You know we had asked for it several times from Dior, but he would not part with it.”

“You seriously thought that listening to Tyelko was a good idea? Have you lost your wits? He is a fool and a-”

Maedhros springs to his feet and cuts her off. “I will not listen to you malign my brother, not even in death.”

She pales. “He - he is dead?”

He sits back down, breathing heavily, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it.

There was silence for several minutes.

“Have you burned the bodies yet?”

Maedhros shakes his head. “Maglor and Amras are preparing their bodies now.”

She turns to leave, then pauses and turns back.

“Maedhros. As I was leaving Doriath, I heard voices on the wind, and saw the shades of two young elves, twins I think. I called out to them, but they did not hear me.”

Maedhros pales. Doronil waits for a response, but when none came, she turns to leave again. The last image she saw of Maedhros was him weeping into his hand before she shut the door behind her.

She walks slowly down the halls to Celegorm’s room. She hesitates for a moment, then pushes the door open. Maglor is there with his brother’s body, cloth in hand, tenderly cleaning the blood from his torso.

She stands in the doorway for a moment.

“What happened Makalaurë?”

He snorts. “We were fools, yet again, and we do not have the silmaril, yet again.”

She watches him in silence for a few minutes more.

Maglor breaks the silence this time. “His last words were something about Írissë. No... that’s not entirely right. It was like he was talking to Írissë.” He looked at her pointedly.

Doronil knew exactly what Maglor was referring to. She too had noticed Celegorm talking out loud to himself more than once over the past several months. 

At first, she was concerned that her sister had refused the summons to Mandos, but a quick and panicked trip to see Galadriel determined that it was Celegorm simply losing his grip on reality.

It was concerning of course, as his father had started losing his tenuous grasp on sanity and then burned his own son alive in the boats at Losgar, not to mention stranding her and all of Ñolofinwë’s people.

Reflecting back on it, she supposes that she shouldn’t be surprised that in his madness, Celegorm advocated for attacking Doriath.

She takes the cloth from Maglor. “I will finish preparing the body Makalaurë. I - I would like to be alone with him please?”

He drew back for a moment, peering into her eyes, then he nodded and left the room quietly.

She brushes the hair out of Celegorm’s face and continues cleaning the blood on his skin.

“Do you remember your first Hunt, Tyelko?” she whispers, “Írissë and I were so proud that Lord Oromë had asked you to join him. And when Huan joined our trio. And that one time we all rode out to Formenos for the week. I have missed you dear friend. You changed so much after the Oath. I wish - I wish -” 

She can’t continue, her tears blocking up her throat.

She will allow herself these tears until her friend’s body is clean. When she steps out of the room, she will be stoic again. 

She does not cry as she arranges his body on the pyre with his favourite bow, as his brothers recite the prayers of the deceased, or as she watches his body burn. 

She remains outside staring at the flames that consume him long after everyone has left. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tyelko/Tyelkormo = Celegorm  
Artaresto = Orodreth  
Írissë = Aredhel  
Makalaurë = Maglor  
Ñolofinwë = Fingolfin
> 
> Telain = platforms in the trees


End file.
